


Somewhat Legal Baby Acquisition

by serenelystrange



Category: Leverage
Genre: F/M, Family, Fluff, Gen, OT3 if you squint, minor OCs - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-20
Updated: 2017-01-20
Packaged: 2018-09-18 18:14:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9397193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/serenelystrange/pseuds/serenelystrange
Summary: They don't steal the baby, per se.They kind of steal the baby.But it all works out in the end!





	

It starts with a sex-trafficking scheme. They bust it in under a week and Parker gloats for months after the fact. At least that’s her version of the story. In actuality, Hardison will tell you, it starts way before that, with a pair of purple rain boots.

.

Parker eyes the pyramid shaped tray of colorful cupcakes with the kind of glee that Hardison has long since learned can only lead to Parker buzzing around like the Energizer bunny and Redbull spawned a demon-child.

“One, Parker,” he says, “those are for the kids.”

“Pfft,” Parker says, waving her hand at him. “We saved the birthday boy’s moms from the evil dermatologist; I can have as many cupcakes as I want.”

“Hate to say it,” Eliot says as he joins them by the snack table, “but the lady has a point. Plus, I don’t live with her, so I don’t have to deal with the sugar rush.”

“Not helpful,” Hardison says, glaring at Eliot for a long moment before rolling his eyes and giving up.

“Just try not to make yourself sick, babe,” he says as he hands Parker a neon green covered cupcake.

Parker just grins and proceeds to shove half the cupcake in her mouth happily.

Eliot and Hardison look out across the park, watching the rowdy group of 5ish year olds running around with bubbles and water guns, squealing and laughing. Jessie and Rosa are plopped down on the grass in the middle of it all, looking exhausted but happy, generally trying their best to make sure none of the kids manage to injure themselves or each other. Their little boy, Ben, runs back to them periodically for hugs or to chatter about something in the kid’s game, his bright purple rain boots clashing against the warm and dry summer day.

“It’s too warm for those boots,” Parker says, mumbled around the cupcake. “His feet will get all sweaty.”

“They’re his favorite,” Eliot says, “Rosa told me earlier. He’s refused to wear anything else since they got them a few weeks ago.” He laughs at that, shaking his head fondly. “Kids, man.”

“You only have like three shirts, Eliot,” Hardison feels the need to point out. Parker snorts beside him, now working on cupcake number two, this one a violent orange color.

“Ass,” Eliot says absently, but he’s not really listening. Instead, Hardison notices, he’s watching Ben and the other kids play with a small smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“You want kids someday?” Hardison asks, because nobody can say he isn’t an astute pain in the ass.

Eliot shrugs and turns to look at Hardison, eyes focusing just left of his face.

“Not much chance of that,” he says, finally, looking for a moment as closed-off as the day they’d met, nearly ten years ago.

Before Hardison can even think of what to say, Parker interrupts by looping her arms around Eliot’s neck, eyes wide with sugar-fueled energy.

“You’ve got plenty of time, cupcake!” she says, before smacking an obnoxious sounding, frosting smeared kiss onto his cheek. “Hehehe, cupcake.”

“I…” Eliot is stunned into silence for a long moment, before rubbing at his cheek and cringing when his hand comes back painted in colors. “How many of these did you eat in less than five minutes? Dammit, Parker!”

Parker just giggles, sugar high in full effect.

“I think it’s time to go,” Hardison says, turning and crouching so Parker can jump onto his back. He learned years ago that most of Parker’s sugar trips somehow end with piggy-back rides, he’s accepted it.

“Whee!” she squeals and jumps up, wrapping her long limbs around him securely.

“You’re both ridiculous,” Eliot says.

“I will fire you,” Parker replies, grinning sweetly.

“Not if I quit first,” Eliot says, finally getting the frosting off his face after the fifth napkin.

Hardison just shakes his head and waves goodbye to Rosa and Jessie as they head out.

“Waffles tomorrow?” he asks Eliot as they split to their own cars.

“Obviously,” Eliot says, “I’ll be there at 8.”

Parker’s whine is muffled from where her head is smushed against Hardison’s shoulder, but it’s still loud enough to hear. Hardison cocks an eyebrow at Eliot, who rolls his eyes.

“Ten, then” he says, and gets into his car before Parker can protest.

“Come on, spider-monkey, get in the car,” Hardison says, wriggling Parker off his back.

“Don’t paraphrase Twilight at me,” she says, shuddering at the thought.

“You made me watch those movies,” Hardison reminds her.

“Because I thought they were going to turn into horror movies at some point!”

“Everything about that series is pretty horrifying,” Hardison concedes.

“Victory!” Parker declares, before finally getting in the car.

She’s asleep not even halfway home.

.

Hardison is startled awake by a dream about tiny elephants in rain boots a few weeks later. When he explains the dream to Parker, she sleepily nods and pats him on the head.

“Keeps out the rain AND the mice” she says, “makes sense,” before passing back out because it’s only 5AM and that isn’t a time she acknowledges exists unless she hasn’t gone to bed yet.

Hardison just smiles down at her fondly. “I knew you’d understand.”

He falls back to sleep eventually, but this time he dreams that he and Parker run an elephant sanctuary on Mars. It wouldn’t be the weirdest thing they’ve done.

.

It’s only after the third consecutive night where Hardison dreams about Eliot coaching the softball team he and Parker are inexplicably on that he finally cracks and brings it up to Parker.

“I think Eliot wants a kid,” he says as they’re settling on the couch to watch Doctor Who.

“Obviously,” Parker says, shrugging.

“You knew?” Hardison says, staring at her with wide eyes.

“He’s the daddest dad to ever dad,” Parker says, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“But,” Hardison says, “he’s never said anything about it, really. And he’s never said anything about giving this life up. He beats people up for a living most of the time!”

“But for justice,” Parker says. “Like Batman. Or Captain America. No, like Bucky!”

Hardison takes a moment to grin. “I love when you get all geeky on me, woman.”

“We can’t do this forever,” Parker says, looking over at Hardison seriously. “We should start an intern program. Train our own little band of Robin Hoods!”

“I..we’ll come back to this,” Hardison says, “but we were talking about Eliot. You think he wants kids? Do you want kids? Is this a conversation we need to have?”

“Maybe,” Parker says, “you’d be a great dad. But not for a few years at least. I’ve got too much thieving to do to worry about breast-feeding!”

“I’m learning so much today,” Hardison says, wrapping his head around the last few minutes, “including the fact that you want my hypothetical babies.”

“You _are_ kinda my favorite,” Parker says, grinning over at him and wriggling her cold toes under his fuzzy pajama-clad thigh.

“I love you, too, mama,” Hardison says, and decides the Eliot thing can wait another day. He has a girlfriend to cuddle and a date with the Doctor.

.

“Parker said she might want babies with me someday,” Hardison brings up to Eliot a few days later. They’re walking through the farmer’s market, because Eliot is a snob about his vegetables. Hardison secretly finds it adorable, but likes very much not being punched, so he keeps it to himself.

“Ok?” Eliot asks, glaring down at a table of tomatoes. “Seriously?” he asks the guy at the table. “Just because you wear overalls and a straw hat doesn’t mean you can pass off these Wal-Mart discount balls of rubber as “organic and farm fresh.”

The vendor just shrugs and turns away to sell to somebody else.

“No respect for the farming community,’ Eliot grumbles as they walk away, “or for my garden salad.”

“It is a dope garden salad,” Hardison agrees, used to Eliot’s farmer’s market fits by now.

They’re a few tables down before Eliot catches up to what Hardison had been saying.

“Parker wants babies?” he asks, surprised.

“Hypothetically,” Hardison corrects. “She said I’d be a great dad, but not for a few years at least.”

“You would be a great dad,” Eliot says, flashing Hardison a genuine smile.

“You would, too, you know,” Hardison says, before he can stop himself. “You know, if that’s a thing that you would want, someday, eventually, maybe.”

Eliot scowls like he wants to say something mean but stops himself before he can. Finally he just shrugs again and twists his mouth into a half smile.

“Men like me don’t get to be fathers,” he says. “I’m going to look at the squash, I’ll see you tomorrow.” And then he’s trudging off into the crowd, leaving a bewildered Hardison standing in front of a table of unidentified root vegetables.”

.

.

“Men like him?” Parker repeats later that night. “What does that even mean?”

“I don’t know,” Hardison says. “but I’m guessing it has to do with his super secret past that he still wont talk to us about.”

“He probably doesn’t think he deserves to be happy,” Parker says, “after everything he’s done.”

Hardison frowns. “He deserves to be happy. But how so we make him realize that?”

“I’m not sure,” Parker says, “but it’s going to have to wait. I think I found our next client.”

.

.

The whole thing turns into a shoot-out, because of course it does. The teenagers they’re rescuing scatter in fear despite the warnings the stay low and hidden, and the scene quickly devolves into chaos. Thankfully, the thugs in charge seem to have more bullets than brainpower and Eliot has them disarmed after only a few minutes, while Hardison and Parker try to locate and rein in the frightened teenagers from around the dark and creepy warehouse. Because there’s always a dark and creepy warehouse in their jobs.

When it’s all said and done, the three of them meet for waffles at Hardison and Parker’s place, as is tradition after a successful job.

“Where’d they all end up?” Eliot asks, knowing Parker and Hardison had been up a lot longer than him, finding safe places for all the kids.

“A few went home,” Hardison says, “the lucky ones with good parents, who were either kidnapped or coerced into staying.”

“The younger ones with no families went to Child Protective Services,” Parker says, eyes still tired. “There were a lot of them.”

“A couple of the older ones were pretty strung out,” Hardison adds, “they’re at the hospital, and then hopefully rehab and therapy.”

“No kids got shot, though,” Parker says, “I’m calling it a win!”

“Here, here!” Hardison and Eliot say in unison, lifting their glasses of orange juice in cheers.

“I still hate leaving them in the system,” Parker says after a few minutes. “Even though I know there are so many good foster families out there. There’s just always…”

“Always the possibility,” Hardison agrees, reaching out to take Parker’s hand in his and giving it a squeeze.

Lost in their moment, they don’t notice Eliot looking at them thoughtfully, smile growing slowly across his face.

.

.

It takes several failed attempts of his own before Eliot gives up and goes to Hardison for help.

“We can’t just steal a baby,” Hardison says.

“I could definitely steal a baby,” Parker interrupts, “they’re very small.”

“I don’t want to steal a baby!” Eliot shouts over them. “I just want to… legally acquire one illegally.”

Hardison just sighs and starts typing. “The things I do for you crazy white people.”

.

They sort of steal the baby.

“It was going into the foster care system, anyway!” Parker defends, as she hands Eliot a tiny bundle wrapped in a white blanket. “And look, I even grabbed its medical chart! Perfectly healthy. It doesn’t even have a name yet.”

“I don’t know,” Eliot says, but he’s already holding the baby close to his chest, making sure it stays warm. “What happened to the parents?”

“There’s nobody left,” Hardison says, “I double checked, promise.”

“This is crazy,” Eliot says, “can we do this? Can _I_  do this?”

“If you mean the paper-trail,” Hardison says, “I am deeply offended that you think I wouldn’t make this the most convincing fake adoption in the history of adoption. But if you mean the prospect of you being a father, than I am still deeply offended that you think I would ever hand over a baby to someone I didn’t trust completely.”

“You’re already a dad, Eliot,” Parker says. “Now you just have a real kid to parent!”

But Eliot’s not listening to them anymore. He looking down at the tiny tan face that’s suddenly looking up at him, eyes still half closed, but alert and seemingly trained on him.

“Hey there, sweetheart,” he coos at her. “I’m gonna be your daddy now, how’s that sound?”

The baby just gurgles, but he decides to take it as a positive sign.

.

.

“Emily?” Parker offers, and Eliot shakes his head.

“She’s not an Emily.”

“True,” Parker says, smiling down at the baby where she’s sleeping on the couch between them.

“Nina?” Hardison asks, thumbing through one of the several baby name books Parker had stolen from the Barnes & Noble.

“It’s not bad,” Eliot says, “but I’m not sure. She has to live with the name her whole life, I want it to feel right.”

“Ooh!” Parker says suddenly, stopping herself from shouting at the last minute. She grabs the book from Hardison and flips almost all the way to the end. “Look!” she says, pointing to the entry at the bottom of the page.

.

“Zoe,” Eliot reads aloud, “Greek in Origin. Means… life.”

He grins down at his sleeping daughter and smooths a hand over her soft baby hair.

“I think it’s perfect. Hey there, my little Zoe. Welcome to our new life.”

THE END

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
